


I'll Take This One

by WillowPerpetua



Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chris and Sebastian find each other in the closet, Explicit Sexual Content, I want to start by apologizing to Margarita I am sure her mother is very nice, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Rimming, all of this from one press conference, awkward texting, but wait! there's more!, real person fic is so ...personal?, slice of life fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After filming three movies as Captain America, Chris is feeling the weight of Cap's shield. Sebastian watches his co-star from a distance, but they grow closer during the time between wrapping filming on Cap 2 and beginning press.<br/>By the time they finally reunite, a single question is finally answered: Why were they so tired at that press conference?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take This One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatTheBodyGraspsNot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/gifts).



_**Chris**_  
  
The last day of filming came too soon. Chris sank into the chair and stared at the mirror, watching his reflection with blank eyes while the makeup artists busied themselves applying layers of powder and wax to his cheeks and forehead. Chris let his mind wander. _He hadn’t said anything to Sebastian_. _After two movies together, he still had not said a single word beyond the professional or friendly kinds of things that he would say to anybody else._ Chris beat himself up silently and closed his eyes when the eyeliner came out.  
  
_It was good, really_ , he thought to himself later, while he was helped into Cap’s suit for the last time for this film. Sebastian didn’t need Chris’s feelings on his plate. He had enough to deal with as it was. Besides, they had at least one more movie to work on together and if Sebastian took it badly, well… Chris tried not to let his expression grow too anxious. He had not said a word. He would not say a thing. That was how it was going to be.

“Happy last day.” Sebastian said, pulling his chair a little closer to Chris’s. Their names were emblazoned across the fabric panels on the back, and Chris tried to pretend, if only to himself, that the image of their names that close together did not give him a twinge of happiness. They took a seat and waited. So much of the work was waiting. Chris grunted a noncommittal reply.  
  
“I thought you would be glad.” Sebastian said, looking away at the lighting technician hanging from a beam above the set to reposition something.  
  
“I guess.” Chris said, watching the myriad technicians rushing around, making last minute adjustments. “It just happened faster than I expected.” 

“Has your agent started calling yet?” Sebastian asked. 

“Did she ever stop is the question.” Chris answered, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. “I think I need a vacation.” 

“I think I need some coffee.” Sebastian said.

  
_**Sebastian** _

It was not as if Sebastian had been expecting roses or a declaration of undying love, but the icy chill emanating from Chris’s cold shoulder threw him off. Things had been going so well, or at least, he thought they had. He tried to tell himself that it was just the last day of shooting, but he could not shake the feeling that he had done something wrong. Perhaps he had come on too strong.

Sebastian abandoned the tables laden with trays of food and carafes of coffee and ducked outside for a cigarette instead. 

“Smoking in costume? I’m pretty sure Marvel can have you assassinated for that.” Chris said, leaning against the wall. 

“They’re contractually obligated to keep me alive for a few more years. That is, if the cancer sticks don’t get me first.” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. His smile gave away more than he would like to admit. He wished that his moods did not hang so closely on Chris, like the tide to the moon, but so be it. “Want one?” He offered the pack forward, although Chris rarely smoked. 

“Sure.” Chris took the lighter as well. Sebastian tried not to watch the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked the air and poison in, his plump lips puckered and eyes hooded. Sebastian failed and watched. 

“You know if we’re doing anything tonight?” Sebastian asked. Chris scrunched up his face and shrugged. 

“Nah.” He said. “People are probably going to go out, but I think I’ll get an early night.” He took a shallow drag and blew the smoke away over his shoulder. “I know, I’m no fun.”

“It’s cool.” Sebastian said. “I think Margarita has a thing. I’ll probably go hang out there.” 

“Right.” Chris said, looking down at his hands. “How’s she doing?” Sebastian felt the heavy weight of the questions that were not asked and never answered.

“She’s great.” He said, without elaboration. It was always best not to elaborate when it came to Margarita. 

“Well, that’s good.” Chris said. Sebastian dropped the butt of his cigarette and crushed it under his boot. “You want to finish this? I don’t think I’m going to.” Chris said, offering the last of his to Sebastian. 

“Thanks, man.” Sebastian said. Their fingers brushed on the exchange and Sebastian wore the touch like a secret all day. 

 

_**Chris** _

Chris went home. Boston was his vacation. Taking a step off the plane and away from the mad rush and constant chaos of Hollywood was like taking a step toward Nirvana. Disconnecting from the teaming world of the Industry—the never ceasing networking and one-upping on one hand and dodging the paparazzi on the other—it was like living a different life.

Under normal circumstances, Chris disconnected from the world while he took a break from L.A. He left his phone off, or at least by his bed, as much as he could get away with, and checked his e-mail once a day. 

This time, there was an antsy, itchy feeling in Chris’s fingers every time he heard his phone make a sound from a room away. He had to force himself to stay collected and calm on his way to retrieve it, and the goofy smile that slid across his face when he looked at the screen gave him away for exactly what the source of his distraction was. 

“Christopher.” His mother said, in that particular tone which was both accusing and joking in the same instant. 

“What?” He asked, already guilty. 

“Who is it?” She asked. Chris shook his head and turned the phone off. 

“Who?” 

“The person you’ve been blushing over all day.”

“I can’t go there, ma.” He said. “He’s… well. He.” Chris said and left it at that. There were many things about his mother that Chris appreciated. Her innate understanding of which things to push and which things to let go was one of them.

He texted Sebastian back that night.  
**  
Can’t sleep.**

**Isn’t it 3 a.m. there?**

**Yeah. So?**

**So. Don’t you have somebody better to be texting at 3 in the morning?**  
  
Chris felt his face flush in the darkness, glad for the first time since saying goodbye that he was so far away from Sebastian, if only for the practical reason that Sebastian could not watch him flounder. It was worse when Sebastian’s follow-up text came a moment later.  
****  
Not that I mind.  
  
Well, shit. Chris let his phone fall onto his chest with a solid _thunk._ What did he say to that?

 **What are you up to?** Chris hoped that didn’t sound too much like “what is your penis up to?”

 **Watching TV. Drinking a beer. Nothing. You?**  
_  
Lying in bed and thinking about you._  He didn’t write that.

 **Not much. Coming back to LA day after tomorrow.** Chris wrote back after some consideration.

**No rest for the weary, huh?**

**Apparently not. Going to try, though.**

**Goodnight.**  Just reading the word on a little glowing screen and knowing it came from Sebastian did something to Chris. He typed out “Goodnight” in response and then buried his head in his pillow. It was better than Benadryl.

 

Chris leaned his head against the tiny airplane window, watching Boston become a town of toy houses and ribbon streets. For a reason he had never understood, the flight toward a destination always felt like it took twice as long as the flight returning home. He knew it would be no time at all until he landed on the tarmac at LAX. There were good things coming up for Chris. He had exciting projects on the horizon. The problem was that Chris was not sure he had really left Cap behind. More to the point, he was not sure he had left Sebastian behind. 

Chris closed his eyes and his fists, grinding his teeth together in his head. He pressed the back of his scull against the headrest. This had been exactly what he worried about when he signed the contract with Marvel. Six movies—however many years that meant—of grinding his teeth and politely refusing to answer interview questions about his personal life… he could hand that. He told himself that he could handle it. This was handling it, right? 

The plane touched down, suspension bouncing Chris out of his melancholy, the roar of the engine louder than the buzz of the anxious thoughts in his brain. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” The voice of the flight attendant came over the loudspeaker, “you may now use your cellphones and electronic devises while we wait to deplane. We do ask that you remain seated at this time.” Chris texted Scarlett as soon as his phone was on.

 **Back in town. Coffee?** He put his phone back in his pocket, instead of watching it and waiting for her reply.

 **Sure. When is good for you?** Chris didn’t bother trying to act cool with Scarlett. That was the beauty of her, he didn’t need to.

**Are you free in an hour?**

**Sure thing.** Chris felt the angry beast of his panic settle down and stop clawing at his ribcage.

 

She waited at their usual booth, hidden just around the corner of the counter, where the sound of grinding espresso beans and steaming milk drowned out the risk of eavesdroppers. A mug of tea cooled in front of Scarlett, tendrils of steam unfurling into the air around her. Chris caught her eye and shared a smile with her while he stood in line to order his coffee.

Scarlett’s expression faded from comfort to concern as she observed him, the way he shifted his weight back and forth, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against his thigh. By the time he joined her at their table, she was confident that Chris had called because he needed something. It was unlike him. A crease appeared between her eyebrows as she leaned forward on the table.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” She asked in his ear when they stood to hug each other. 

“It’s nothing.” Chris shrugged, taking his seat opposite her. 

“Yeah. I can tell.” Scarlett said. “Anyway. What’s wrong?” 

“Man, I really don’t get to ease into it, do I?” Chris asked. 

“Nope.” Scarlett said. Chris took a deep breath and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. 

“You remember that thing we talked about...” Chris trailed off. He didn’t know how to breech the subject. 

“Yeah, Chris. I know what you’re talking about.” Scarlett said. Between the casual way she said it and the way she sipped her tea, as if the weight of the world and all its secrets were not carried between the lines of their conversation, Chris was not sure they were talking about the same thing. 

“I mean…” Chris started again. A false start.

“Yeah.” Scarlett said. “We don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.” It would be easier to back out. The truth was, he _didn’t_ want to talk about it. However, as with much of his life, what he needed and what he wanted were two different things.

“It’s just. Sebastian.” Chris said, forcing the words out in one breath, quiet but calm. Scarlett gave Chris an appraising look from across the table, muted words hidden behind another sip of tea. 

“Did something happen?” She asked. 

“No.” Chris answered. 

“Do you want something to?” She asked. 

“Fuck, Scarlett. I can’t answer that.” Chris looked away, feeling his cheeks go red.

“Okay. We have done this song and dance before.” Scarlett’s face pinched into the expression that Chris associated with hard truths. “You signed a contract.” Chris let out a heavy sigh. This was why he called Scarlett. She always told him what he needed to hear. “But here’s the thing, Chris,” She went on, “as far as I know, that contract just means you have to keep doing your job. Nobody said you have to become a monk. Now,” She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to argue, “I know you do the guilt thing better than anybody when it comes to your personal life, but that’s the thing: It’s personal. You have been dodging questions for a couple of years now, and the press more or less leaves you alone. I don’t see why you can’t be happy.” 

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Chris said. 

“Why not?” 

“Well, Sebastian is straight.” 

“Is he?” Scarlett asked without really asking. 

“We have to keep working together.” 

“So do most actors who date.” 

“I don’t even know if he likes me.” Chris said, looking down at his coffee. 

“Well that’s stupid. But it’s also not the point, not really.” Scarlett said. “This isn’t about Sebastian, Chris. This is about you. What do you want?”

 

Chris called his manager that evening.  
“I want to direct.”

 

_**Sebastian** _

Sebastian picked up his phone without thinking about it. It has been an uneventful day, and he didn’t have much on his mind beyond the immediate problems of what to do for dinner and whether he should finish reading his book or give it up and start something new. The text message from Chris drove everything else out of his mind and replaced his thoughts with the overwhelming feeling of Chris’s absence from Sebastian’s life over the past few weeks. All of a sudden, he could not imagine what he has been doing with his life since Chris walked out of it when they wrapped up shooting.

 **How’s it going?**  Simple. Direct. Sebastian heard the words in Chris’s voice inside his head as he read. He typed back right away.

 **Not bad. Kinda bored.** Sebastian looked through his refrigerator, and tried to focus on anything other than the length of time between his reply and Chris’s response.

**Lol. Really? My mom always says only boring people get bored. You are hardly boring.**

**Yeah, that’s right. I’m gonna have extra spicy leftovers for dinner tonight. Exciting enough for you?**

**That’s my boy!  
**

Seb tried not to smile. He tried harder not to imagine the words in other contexts. Suddenly, the image flooded his mind, _Chris, sweaty and heavy and hot above him, his lips inches from Sebastian’s as they rutted together on his bed, or Chris’s bed, it didn’t matter where. The words “That’s my boy” slipping, dangerous and dirty, from Chris’s lips, deep pink and smiling, as they moved against each other in the half-light of an evening that would probably never happen._ No. Sebastain forced himself to think—not _probably,_ would never happen. It was an expression, just something friendly. It was the kind of thing that Chris would say while he slapped Sebastian on the back with a soft, warm hand. He meant nothing by it.  
Sebastian did not write back _I want to be your boy._ But he thought it.

 **How about you? What are you up to?** Sebastian responded at last. It was agony trying to compose a reply.

**Working. Kinda. Looking through scripts.**

**You never stop, do you?**

**Nope. I just keep pounding away.  
**

Sebastian read the text three times before he believed that the words he saw were the words Chris sent. Chris could not possibly be unaware of the double entendre, right? He sank onto the couch cushions and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.  
“Fuck.” He whispered to himself as the images rose again, unbidden, to the front of his mind.

**Sounds like fun.**

At that moment, the apartment door was flung open with such force that it made Sebastian jump and drop his phone. Margarita pushed through it and dropped her things on the counter. As soon as the door slammed shut behind her she began swearing up a storm, alternating between Russian and English. Glancing over, Sebastian expected to see a phone pressed against her ear, but there was none. She ranted into the open air, unaware that he was even in the room, blinded by the fury that swept her into their house. 

“Are you okay?” He spoke up, finally, when the fire of her diatribe seemed to have died down slightly. 

“Ugh. No.” She said, dropping onto the couch next to him. After a moment of silence which Sebastian did not dare to break, she added, with a dead weight to her words, “My. Mother.” It solved the mystery, but did nothing to sooth Sebastian’s worry. 

“She isn’t coming here, is she?” He asked. The look on her face was as clear as day. Of course Margarita’s mother was coming for a visit. That was the only thing that could garner this kind of reaction. “Oh. Shit.” 

“Yep.” Margarita said. “Get ready.”

Sebastian fell into bed later that night with the room swooping and spinning pleasantly around him. He and Margarita had drunk until the thought of an impending visit from her mother seemed like a fun idea. That meant vodka and a lot of it. Sebastian was just feeling the heavy weight pulling his eyelids down, when he checked his phone for the last time and saw the reply from Chris from hours ago.

 **It would be a lot more fun if you were with me.**  
Sebastian fell asleep with his phone in his hand, the text unanswered.

**  
**

_**Chris** _

Chris’s first thought the next day was of Sebastian’s face. It came to him in that comfortable, sleepy state between the end of a dream and wakefulness, when thoughts are in their purest form. His second thought, which drove him fully into the world of the living as effectively as a bucket of ice water, was the text messages he sent the night before, and (thought number three) the fact that Sebastian had not replied. 

Chris sat up and cradled his head in his hands, indulging in a full set of self-pity and name calling. How could he have let himself go there? Did he make Sebastian uncomfortable? What if he had? What if he had not made his point clear enough? Had he been too vague? Oh god, he was such a fucking asshole.  
His phone rang. He answered it without looking at the screen.

“Yeah?” He answered. 

“Oh god. Not so loud. I’m really fucking hung over.” Sebastian’s voice replied, hushed and gravely. Chris scrambled to sit up and readjust his sheets, suddenly feeling veryexposed despite being entirely alone. 

“Sebastian?” He asked, although he didn’t need to. 

“That’s the one.” Sebastian said. Chris could hear his smile in his voice. 

“What’s going on, man?” 

“I’ve been cleaning the apartment all day.” Sebastian said. 

“Hung over? That must have been some party.” Chris said. 

“Not so much. I made the mistake of trying to keep up with Margarita last night. Her mom is coming into town tonight.” Sebastian said, as if this clarified everything. Chris felt the same icy sensation in his veins that he always did whenever Margarita’s name came up in conversation. It was not that he did not like her—he had no reason to dislike her at all. Unless he was honest with himself, in which case he knew it was because she got to wake up next to Sebastian every morning. It was petty jealousy. Chris rolled his eyes at his own reaction. 

“You don’t sound too thrilled about that.” Chris said

“You have no idea.” Sebastian said. 

“Is it the mother-in-law thing? She doesn’t like that you took her baby away and all that?” There was a stretch of silence on the line that made Chris worry. Maybe he stuck his foot in his mouth right there. He was just about to apologize when Sebastian spoke up in a tone just a little more strained than before. 

“It’s… Margarita and I aren’t really… It’s not like that.” He said. Chris thought he might explode from the sheer relief of those words. 

“Oh, I thought—“

“Fooled you.” Sebastian said, a bittersweet tinge to his tone. “Most people just assume we are together. It is easier that way. We’ve lived together for so long nobody asks questions anymore. Except her mother, she asks a lot of questions, mostly about where her grandbabies are. It’s uncomfortable. But otherwise, it’s good.” 

“So you’re…” Chris struggled to get the thought together in his own head, “not dating?” He asked. 

“No, man. She’s my best friend. Dating is kind of off the table for me.” 

“Oh, I get it. Marvel lawyers got to you, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” Sebastian asked, trying to sound casual but overshooting just a little too much. 

“Somebody in a suit gave you the whole, scary ‘You represent Marvel and Disney and God, probably, now, so you have to keep yourself out of the gossip,’ speech? I know, Sebastian. They scared the shit out of me with that. Why do you think I don’t date?” 

“Well. There’s that, yeah.” Sebastian sounded hesitant, as if teetering on the edge of something from which he could not come back. “If I dated the people I want to date, there is no way people wouldn’t gossip.” Sebastian said. 

“So you’re…” 

“Yeah.” Sebastian answered the question so that Chris did not need to finish it. “That’ not going to make things weird, right?” 

“Of course not!” Chris said, barely containing the overwhelming joy leaking through with every syllable. “I mean, I am too. Gay, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Sebastian sighed, “good.” 

“Good?” Chris asked, barely daring to smile. 

“I mean. Not _good_ , just. You know. We’re, like, on the same page… Fuck it. You know what I meant.” Sebastian stumbled over himself. 

“Right.” Chris laughed. “I’m not sure you knew what you meant.” 

“Maybe not.” Sebastian laughed back.

 

_**Sebastian** _

After the phone call, Sebastian spent the rest of the day in such a good mood that the impending doom of Margarita’s mother seemed like a minor inconvenience. It wasn’t until a quarter to eight, when Margarita picked up the keys to go pick her up that Sebastian felt the desire to cut and run. By the time they returned, however, he was solidly in character as the loving boyfriend. However, if he closed his eyes when he kissed her, and it was Chris’s lips he saw, he could hardly be blamed.

That night, he checked his email, exhausted and already dreaming longingly of the bed he could not sleep in alone. He would have to share with Margarita tonight, just the thought made him tired. Glancing through his inbox, he noticed a message from Chris.  
  
_First of all, how are things going with your guest? I hope you are feeling better._

_Also, I wanted to let you know that you have my strictest confidence about that thing we talked about earlier today. It’s in the vault. If you want to talk about it again, you can bring it up and that is great, but I won’t make a point of harping on about it. It is your life.  
I had a similar conversation about myself with Scarlett a few years ago. Sometimes just having somebody you can talk to, somebody who you work with, can make all the difference. It is just important to know that you are not alone. You are a good guy, Sebastian. I’m lucky to be able to call you a friend. _

Sebastian could swear that his eyes were watering because he just yawned, but that would be a lie.  

 

_**Chris** _

Chris spent the next day feeling like his smile had been turned up to eleven. It did not matter that his lunch order came out wrong (not that he would send it back, even on his worst days), or that he locked himself out of his car. The inconveniences of life couldn’t get him down. The only thing that mattered was the thought that ran through his head on a constant loop. That Sebastian opened up and told him, Chris, something deeply personal. That, however slim it might be, Chris had more of a shot now than he had before. That there was hope.

 

 _ **Sebastian**_  

Sebastian reminded himself that he only needed to endure Mama Levieva’s visit for two more nights. _Two more nights, Seb. Then you can go back to sleeping in your own room and living your own life with no more prying questions. Easy._ It did not feel easy, though. Especially when he had to work to keep himself from checking his phone every two minutes to see if he had received another message from Chris. 

When Sebastian did allow himself a peek at his phone, he employed a series of deep breaths and his most casual expression to hide the wild grin that threatened to expose his delight. There was a text from Chris waiting for him.

**Did you get the call yet?**

**What call? Are we starting press? Please tell me we are starting press. Tomorrow would be good.**

A few moments later, his phone buzzed with Chris’s reply.

**Haha, no such luck for you. Just wait for the call.**

**No! I need details!**

**All in good time.**

**Don’t be a tease. _  
_**_Actually, do be a tease. Just not right now._ Sebastian thought.

**What, Me? Tease? Never!**

Sebastian played along for the rest of the day without so much as a grimace, but sprinted out of the room when his phone rang to answer the call from his manager.

 

_Later_

Press was a double-edged sword. On one hand, reuniting to see the cast of a film was a wonderful feeling. It didn’t work that way most of the time, and it certainly did not work that way with live theatre. Usually, when a project was over, that unit of time was locked away in everybody’s heart like a time capsule, to be taken out and examined only in photographs, but never relived. If you were lucky enough to encounter the people you worked with again, it was different—a different show or a different phase of life—Sebastian never really got the feeling of comradery back. 

Press for a Marvel film, on the other hand? Now, that was a horse of a different color. It was just like returning to set for another day of filming, with all the comfort that provided. The smile that spread across his face when he entered the hotel lobby that evening and saw Chris sitting in one of the wingback armchairs, the lower half of his face covered in a neatly trimmed beard, lit up the room. Chris glanced up from under his hat, returned the smile, and stood to embrace Sebastian.

There were no brief, minimal contact, one arm hugs where Chris was concerned. They stood with their chests pressed firmly together, arms tight around each other, hanging on as if this contact, and not gravity, were the anchor keeping them rooted to the earth. Chris released Sebastian a moment later, the smell of him, clean and strong, in his nose. 

“How’s it going, man?” Sebastian asked, his smile not faltering for a moment. 

“Good.” Chris said, and Sebastian knew that he meant it. “For once, press doesn’t seem so bad.” 

“Well, you know, we haven’t started yet.” Seb said. 

“Yeah, I guess I had better not jinx myself.” They walked together. Seb wheeled a small bag behind him, not thinking about anything but the way his steps fell into sync with Chris’s. 

“How was your flight?” Chris asked. 

“Not bad. Long, a little bumpy.” He willed himself not to overthink or blush. “But, you know, that’s normal.” 

“Do you want to check in? Drop your stuff off?” 

“Is it bad if I just want to grab a drink first?” Sebastian asked. 

“Hell no. You must be beat. I got in yesterday.” Chris said. “There’s a bar over that way,” he cocked his head to the side. Sebastian considered the immediate relief of sitting down and having food and drink brought to him. On the other hand, there would be people to maneuver around, and waiting, and a whole table between Chris and him. He shook his head. 

“Nah, let’s just tear up the minibar. As long as Marvel’s footing the bill.” Sebastian said. 

“Sounds good by me.” They headed down the hallway instead and waited for the elevators in a comfortable silence. It arrived empty. Once they were inside the small box, headed toward Chris’s room, the weight of their silence pressed in on Sebastian in a new way. Each of his unsaid words an ounce of pressure that grew as they ascended. 

“I, uh,” Sebastian glanced down at his shoes, around at the glowing buttons, anywhere but at the man standing at his side. He could feel Chris looking at him. “I wanted to say thanks, I guess. For how you handled everything lately.” He said, still not returning Chris’s gaze. “I know I’ve been talking to you a lot.” 

“We have been talking, yeah,” Chris shrugged, “but there’s nothing to handle, Sebastian. You’re my friend.”

Sebastian finally dared to meet Chris’s eye. A thin layer of nonchalance balanced over a deep pool of concern. If nothing else, Chris knew how to emote. He did not quite know how to turn that off. The swelling look of deep interest and passionate disquiet that grew along Chris’s eyebrows and across his jawline pulled Sebastian in, unescapably. 

He launched himself off the railing of the elevator and into Chris’s arms. Their lips collided. The sudden shock of the approach left them at once desperate and off-guard. A certain human beauty arose in the unexpected, frank kiss. There was no planning and no finesse, no attempt to charm and so the charm grew in itself, genuine and true. They kissed because they wanted to and because the passion was there, and for no other reason at all. 

The elevator dinged to a halt and the doors slid open as Chris and Sebastian released each other, both breathless and wide eyed. A question was asked in Sebastian’s raised eyebrows and parted lips, and answered in the briefest nod of Chris’s head. Without another word, they stepped over the threshold, into the hallway, and found the room.

 

**Together**

Chris pinned Sebastian to the door the moment it was shut, drinking him in as if he were dying of thirst. He felt Sebastian’s hands, lean and delicate, push at the hem of his shirt and assist in discarding it as seamlessly as possible. Faster than blinking, they were connected again. Lips and hands pressing and searching, mapping out new territory. They found new ways to fit together. 

Sebastian’s neck stretched out, elegant, as he leaned his head back against the door. Chris kissed his way down and down. His hands stroked Sebastian’s sides lightly, raising goosebumps in their wake, while his mouth scorched kisses along his chest and abdomen. Sebastian ran his hands through Chris’s hair, content with the simple action so long denied him. 

Chris sank to his knees, open mouthed and panting. He looked up into Sebastian’s face and felt all the worry and the “what-ifs” of the past months melt away at the simple word whispered by the man above him. 

“Please.” Sebastian breathed it out so quietly it was hardly a word. His hands stroked through his hair again, this time with intent. He did not push, but in that touch alone, Chris felt how much Sebastian wanted this—wanted him. There was no turning back. It was everything Chris had never dared to let himself hope for from the moment they first met. Their eyes found each other in the semidarkness and a spark lit between them brighter than a flash of lightning. 

Chris worked the button and zipper of Sebastian’s pants open and had them halfway down his thighs in a matter of seconds, bearing everything underneath. A moment passed in which Chris could do nothing but take in the scene before him. Sebastian stood against the door, hips jutted out, clothing in disarray, hair mussed, with an expression of pure want etched into every line of his face without a hint of self-consciousness to be found. In each breath and heartbeat that passed, the reality became clearer to Chris that this was happening. They were here. He could have what he wanted, if he was brave enough to take it. 

The thought spurred him into action, lest he lose the momentum and allow the night to end in awkward apologies instead. He traced his fingers along the definitions of Sebastian’s hips, down to the erection between them, begging to be attended to. The first stroke of his hand was tentative, but Sebastian’s unabashed moan washed away any hesitancy Chris may have been clinging to. He felt the hands in his hair tighten, just hard enough to feel them. 

Chris leaned in close, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth dropped open. It had been a while, but the mechanics of the act didn’t change. _He could do this,_ he thought as he smelled Sebastian on the inhale _. He wanted, oh how he wanted_ —and the taste and feeling of Sebastian heavy on his tongue drew Chris from his reverie and into the present as he closed his lips around him. 

“Oh, fuck.” Sebastian panted through gritted teeth as he watched Chris’s mouth close around him. Sebastian threw his head back and let out a whine “Mnnh, yeah.” His fingers worked through Chris’s hair as Chris drew back and plunged forward again. Chris could feel the pleasure vibrating outward from him as he sucked harder and licked along the ridge at the head. Sebastian’s exclamations became more frequent and less coherent as Chris’s movements picked up speed. 

One of Chris’s hands moved in tandem with his mouth, the other rubbed gentle circles on Sebastian’s hip, holding him steady. Meanwhile, one of Sebastian’s hands migrated from the back of Chris’s head to his cheek, gently cupping Chris’s face, feeling his jaw work around the intrusion of Sebastian’s cock. Chris turned his head to the side so that Sebastian pressed against Chris’s cheek with each bob of his head. He could feel the bulge it made, obscene and wonderful. Chris’s cheek was hot and soft on the inside, the contrast to the beard that adorned it on the outside drew another series of moans from Sebastian. 

“Hmn—oh— _oh_ —Jesus—fuck—“ the string of words came out with no consideration. Chris’s hand reached for the one Sebastian had placed on his cheek and replaced in on the back of his head, holding it there for a moment while he repositioned himself before sinking as far down as he could. “Christ!—Shit—uh—you—oh—mmm—but—oh—fuck—“ it went on, louder than before, while Chris pushed on. “I’m gonna—“ 

It was all the warning Chris got. The decision to spit or swallow made up by circumstance, Sebastian came and Chris worked him through it, thinking that for all the world, there was nothing else he would rather do. He sat back on his haunches, swallowing the bitter, salty taste down, and wiped the sweat from his brow, looking up at Sebastian from under his eyelashes. 

Sebastian was disheveled and perfect. Between the dazed expression and the shaky way he ran a hand through his hair, it looked as if the only thing keeping him upright was the door that he still leaned against. Chris rose to his feet, just inches from Sebastian’s face. The crescendo of endorphins that crashed through him when Sebastian pulled him closer and pressed their lips together could have knocked him over. 

“Thanks.” Sebastian said when they parted. 

“You good?” Chris asked. A creeping sensation of worry spread through him at the thought that this might be goodbye, for the night, for forever. They would see each other again, but this might not be a survivable event for their friendship. Sebastian shook his head and smiled a goofy, half-smile under heavy eyelids. 

“I will be when you are.” He said. The tightness in Chris’s chest faded. 

“Oh, yeah. I mean—“ Chris couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. “Okay.” He said. “Do you wanna…” He gestured toward the untouched bed and Sebastian laughed. 

“Yeah, Chris. I want to.” Sebastian said. He kicked off his shoes and finished the job of shucking off his pants, stripping the shirt from his back as he took the lead on the way to the bed. It was exactly as Chris had imagined and nothing like it at all. Watching Sebastian dive into bed for him, already sated. Chris crossed the room with the taste of him on his tongue and an ache between his legs.

He stopped at the foot of the bed to retrieve a packet of lube and a condom from his bag, grateful for hopeful overthinking and a tendency to pack too much. For once, it was coming in useful. He undressed as gracefully as he could, feeling unmistakably aware of his audience. 

Sebastian reached for Chris again, pulling him down on the bed and in for another kiss. Their bodies stretched out against each other, skin against skin. Feeling the heat of Sebastian’s bare flesh against his pushed Chris right up to the edge, a tingle in his bones as if he could go off just from the simple touch alone. Sebastian seemed to sense that, and dared to push Chris further, tangling their legs together and latching his lips to his neck. 

“Cameras tomorrow.” Chris groaned. 

“Right. Sorry.” Sebastian said, moving lower to reattach his lips to Chris’s chest instead. Chris moaned, the volume only increasing when Sebastian’s hands roamed from his waist to his ass, pulling them closer. Sebastian rolled his hips against Chris, sparking a friction so desperately needed.

“Fuck!” Chris swore and felt the vibrations of Sebastian’s quiet laughter against his chest. “Funny?” He asked. 

“Not really.” Sebastian said, looking up at him with a coy smile. “I was just wondering, if that sets you off, what are you going to do when I do this?” He asked before reaching down and wrapping his slender, long fingers—the ones that Chris had so long imagined and tried not to imagine and then imagined anyway—around Chris’s penis with a confidence that suggested he did so every other day. 

The contact was like the long-awaited answer to a question. Chris leaned his head back and let out a breath. His mouth dropped open and eyelids lowered, relaxing into the touch and letting the rest of the world melt away. Nothing else mattered. There was nothing but Sebastian, that was, until his other hand came up to fondle his balls and the world came back into sharp relief at the new touch. 

“Oh god.” Chris said as Sebastian’s hand twisted in just the right way, stroking up and down. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Seb—Sebastian…” He began, unsure of what he was going to say, only vaguely aware that he needed to keep talking, if only to tether himself to reality.

“You gonna fuck me?” Sebastian asked, an eyebrow raised. “Is that it?” 

“Not if you keep doing that, I’m not.” Chris said, bringing a hand down to Sebastian’s arm to slow his movements. 

“Better get a move on, then. Don’t know if I can keep my hands off you.” Sebastian said. 

Mustering all the willpower he possessed, Chris put a hand on either of Sebastian’s shoulders, pinning him to the bed and kissed him for everything he had while he reached for the packets dropped somewhere in the duvet around them. Fingers closed around the lube and tore it open, then dropped to Sebastian’s ass. 

“Mmm” Sebastian moaned, his pitch just touching on sharp. 

“Okay?” Chris asked against his cheek, breathing into his ear. Sebastian nodded, drawing one knee up. 

“Just cold.” He said. “Kinda nice, though.” 

“Good.” Chris said. “Okay.” He said more to himself than to Sebastian. He leaned in and pressed a kiss against Sebastian’s cheek, his jaw, then drew his earlobe into his mouth earning a gasp while his hand began working again, drawing slow, lazy circles against him. He breached him slowly, one finger worked in and out until Sebastian rocked back down to meet him. 

“More.” Sebastian said, his hand clutching at Chris’s shoulder while he rolled his hips. Chris obliged, adding a second finger. “Oh God, Chris.” Sebastian sighed. Chris changed the angle of his hand just enough. Sebastian clutched at Chris’s shoulder with more desperation, a look of windswept rapture blossoming across his face. “ _Oh God, Chris._ ” He repeated. 

“Yeah?” Chris asked. 

“Fuck yeah.” Sebastian answered, finding Chris’s lips with his own. Sebastian rocked down with more enthusiasm. His cock was hard again, as if it had been in Chris’s mouth days ago.

“You ready?” Chris asked, his free hand reaching for the condom. 

“Uh huh,” Sebastian whined, still fucking himself on Chris’s fingers until he withdrew them to roll the condom on and steady himself. 

There was something in the breath Chris took, stopping for a moment to collect himself, that was so familiar and so pure it knocked the air from Sebastian’s lungs. It looked like the moment between Chris and a character, when the switch took place before he began a scene. When he allowed himself become someone else. Sebastian admired this in Chris. Every actor had a process, and Chris’s was smooth and elegant—but it was not what Sebastian wanted. Not then. 

Sebastian reached up and cupped Chris’s cheek in his hand. 

“You with me?” He asked. “I’m right here.” Chris blinked, swallowed, looked up at him from beneath lashes that went on for miles. The smile was all Chris. 

“Yeah.” He said, nodding. “I’m good.” He leaned in for a kiss, soft and as chaste as it could be. “This is good.” He said. 

“Yes.” Sebastian repeated, reaching down to cover Chris’s hand with his own, guiding him. Their foreheads rested together as Chris entered him. 

Fucking Sebastian was beyond sex. Ecstatic waves of pleasure crashed against Chris, over and over. He moved his hips and was met by the equal movements of the body below him, always ready for whatever came at him. Through it all, Sebastian looked like he was watching the face of God. His full lips parted while he gasped, breath hitched when Chris moved just the right way, always chasing that elusive moan or whisper. They brought something out of each other that they had never seen or felt before, and so they chased it further, moving against each other faster and harder. 

Sebastian pushed against Chris’s chest and flipped them. He rode Chris and laughed at the dazed expression on his face, swooping down to lick into his mouth and bite at his lips. All the while, his hips moved at a merciless, frantic pace. He held onto Chris’s arms and pinned him down while he ground against him. 

Chris flew into a frenzy. The feeling of Sebastian’s weight on top of him drove him wild. Their lips met again and again, smothering the moans lost between them. Sebastian threw his head back. He arched his back and bellowed a moan into the air around them. It sounded like a symphony to Chris.

“Oh—augh—Sebastian!” Chris held on while Sebastian bucked above him. He felt the heat and tightness around him, impossibly sweet, flutter and contract as Sebastian came for the second time that night. Chris didn’t stand a chance. He felt himself tip off the edge in a moment of blissful perfection while Sebastian’s hands found his, gripping tight and riding them both through it. 

Sebastian collapsed against his chest, their legs tangled together, breathing in deep gasps as they came down together. Slowly, reluctantly, Sebastian extracted himself from Chris’s arms enough to roll over and stair, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling. He ran a hand through his hair slicking it back with sweat and turned to look at Chris. 

Chris felt like an impossible shift had taken place in the universe. A swelling of some emotion he could not name was filling his chest like a balloon. An accomplishment, sense of purpose, joy. He looked at Sebastian and saw it reflected there. 

“You know,” Sebastian said, “We never did have that drink.” The laugh that crashed out of him without conscious thought filled room. He pulled Sebastian to him again and kissed him.  


 

They woke the next day still wrapped up in each other. The phone rang, drawing them both from sleep in the same instant, identical remorseful smiles played across their lips. Perhaps they could not sleep any longer, and that was a brutal truth to accept, but they had slept together, which felt like a victory. Chris clambered for the phone. 

“Hello?” He answered. 

“Good morning Mr. Evans. This is your 6:30 wake-up call.” The pleasant, collected voice on the other end of the line said. 

“Thank you.” Chris said.

“You’re welcome. Have a good day sir.” 

Chris hung up and let himself fall back onto the pillows and into Sebastian’s arms. He brushed a finger across Sebastian’s eyebrow, then down to his cheek, drawing him in for a kiss. 

“Good morning.” He said. 

“Mmm, morning.” Sebastian said, still halfway in a sleeping state, dreamy and happy. He kissed at Chris’s neck and moved closer to him, pressing the long, hard lines of their bodies together.

“Not right now, Sebastian. We have a press conference at eight.” 

“So later then?” Sebastian said, watching the sheet fall away from Chris’s bare shoulders and back as he rose from the bed. Chris turned over his shoulder to smile at him. 

“If you’re lucky.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Am I lucky enough to share the shower, at least?” Sebastian asked. “Since we’re running on a tight schedule and all.” 

Chris fixed him with an appraising look, feigning seriousness. “Just a shower.” 

“I know.” Sebastian yawned.

 

**Sebastian – The Press Conference**

Sebastian stumbled first into the hallway feeling anything but ready to face what awaited them downstairs. Breakfast. Press conference. Meeting. Lunch. Just the thought made him feel like standing took too much effort. Exhaustion glistened around him like an aura. He failed to glance at the clock the previous night, before dropping off into sleep equally exhausted and enthralled by his proximity to Chris. If he had to guess, however, he couldn’t imagine they had more than three or four hours of sleep, all together. 

In his stupor, he nearly walked right into Scarlett, closing the door behind herself. The door, Sebastian could not fail to notice, right next to Chris’s. She raised her chin and her eyebrows at him in greeting, just as Chris joined them in the hallway. 

“Morning.” She said, while Chris let out a massive yawn. “Sleep well?” She asked.

“Uh huh.” Sebastian said, not quite meeting her eye. “You?” He asked. 

“Not really. The guys next door were having really loud sex all night.” She said. Chris coughed. 

“Aw shit.” He said. “Sorry.” He stared down at his feet with the look of a small child being scolded. 

“You’re just lucky I was your neighbor. I always pack earplugs.” Scarlett said, a smug smile drawing the corner of her mouth up. “Coffee?” She asked. It was hardly a question.

As the three of them descended to the ground floor, the elevator felt smaller than it did on the way up. Scarlett’s small frame was less to blame than the crushing weight of the awkward silence that settled upon them, before she shattered it with a low, quiet chuckle and a shake of her head. 

“You can stop looking so grim. In fact, you’re going to want to perk up a little. You’re not in trouble.” She said, giving them each a once-over. “At least, you won’t be if you can make it through this conference. Just smile and nod, okay? I’ll field as many questions as I can.” 

“You’re a life saver, Scarlett.” Chris said. 

“I’ve been told.” She said, stepping out of the elevator.

  
Coffee in hand, they all gathered in a side room off the conference room. They used their time shortage to avoid the Marvel big-wigs as much as possible, unsure of whose rooms had been nearest to Chris and Sebastian’s the night before. Sebastian could have sworn that he saw a special glint in Mackie’s eye when he smiled over at them. The reunion was short and sweet, with a hug for each of them. 

“Hey man, how’s it been?” Mackie asked. Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. 

“Ah, you know.” He said. A voice from across the room grabbed their attention. 

“You’re on in five.” 

“Thank you, five.” Everyone echoed in unison, the call and response second nature to them. 

“Anyway, we’ll get caught up later.” Sebastian said. 

“You just drink that coffee.” Mackie agreed.

They filed in and took their seats to scattered, but warm applause. If Sebastian leaned back in his chair and let his knee fall to the side enough to bump into Chris’s under the table, nobody noticed. As the questions came at them, however, his relaxation traded places with exhaustion. The first question was a loaded one.

Listening to Scarlet talk about trust felt like an exercise in terror that he had not signed up for so early in the morning. She talked about the Black Widow, about Natasha, of course, but as the actors discussed their characters, they spoke about themselves. It was personal business. Scarlett spoke about how she trusted easily, but once that trust was broken, it did not come back. All Sebastian could hear was “ _Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt Chris. I’m watching you.”_

“Hi. My question is for Chris. You spoke to us three years ago when the first film came out and you were very candid about concerns you had, not about the role itself but about its impact on you—loss of anonymity, uh, concerns about type-casting and now it’s the third time through with the Captain and how do you feel that process has evolved?” Chris leaned forward in his seat and smiled throughout the question.

“If I had not done the movies it would have been the biggest mistake of my life, and it would have been the biggest regret to date… and there are plenty.” Chris responded. Everybody laughed. Sebastian forced a chuckle. 

Questions came at a rapid-fire pace for Scarlett, Sam, Mackie, and Chris. Sebastian sat in the middle of the table, grateful not to be asked too much, but also feeling more like scenery than a part of the production. He forced himself not to ruminate too heavily on Chris’s early answer about mistakes and regrets. Had he been talking about Sebastian? No, he could not allow himself to go there. Not with so many cameras pointed in his direction.

“This one is especially for Sebastian, since we haven’t heard from you.” The journalist joked. Sebastian leaned into the mic.

“Hi.” He said, smiling. The question was about truth, and finding truth in his character. It was a good question, the kind that he hoped to get, nothing about workout regimes, thank god. Chris leaned forward and put a hand lightly on Sebastian’s chest.

“I’ll take this one.” He said, to more laughter. The simple touch, a joke to everybody else in the room, was enough to calm every one of Sebastian’s nerves. It meant things were fine. It meant Chris could touch him in front of a whole room of people with cameras and nothing would happen. It meant everything.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks and so much love to Indigoemrys and whatthebodygraspsnot for making this fic happen, it was a combined brainchild and I could not have been happier to write it.


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